


Sub Rosa

by charmingotter



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-02 12:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingotter/pseuds/charmingotter
Summary: There are rumors at MI6 that something is going on between the Quartermaster and 007...Something everyone knows about except them apparently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumor: 007 started bringing his equipment back to Q Branch...Unconfirmed. Possible causes, if true: #1 The Quartermaster threatened his life. #2 (most likely) Miss Moneypenny threatened his life #3 Sheer dumb luck #4 007 wants something from the Quartermaster #5 (least likely) 007 likes the Quartermaster. Conclusion: Something is going on, though currently indeterminable.

There was static on the other end of the comms. Q made a mental note to make sure all future earpieces were better waterproofed. Or in Bond’s case-- wine proof. Why he’d even dropped in the glass in the first place was...a mystery, but Q supposed they were lucky that it had been fished out at all. Usually, he didn’t bother. 

Maybe for once he had the foresight to think he might need them later on though. Like now for instance, when he was between a rock and a hard place- the hard place in this situation being a fair amount of people with guns wanting him dead. 

“007,” Q said when the gunfire had halted for a moment. They were all probably about to have to do a little creative problem-solving. Probably involving at least one explosion. 

“What?” He hissed, obviously not in the best of moods after being hit in the back of the head before all the commotion had started proper. He had taken care of that particular nuisance already though. 

“Everyone holding a gun is on the other side of that car, correct?”

“You tell me, _Quartermaster_.” He was reloading his Walther and didn’t bother to look at around the corner to check himself. 

“Don’t get snippy.” Q looked at the camera angles he had, looked at R, she nodded in agreement. He hummed. A few more shots fired, one zooming precariously close to their agent. “Well, let’s have a bit of fun then, shall we?” He had sent some things with Bond of all people to be tested for a reason. He was the only double oh who got in these situations often enough to justify sending things that needed testing. 

He heard 007 chuckle. “Well, my life is in your hands, darling.”

Q resisted the urge to snort at him, if only because it was unprofessional. But then, so was calling him darling. “Right. First, let’s take care of those fellows behind the car.” First that. Then escape route. Then actually get him out of there and back safely. “In that nice new armories suit of yours, I left a pen in your breast pocket. Take it out.”

“Q,” 007 smiled, sounding as pleased as the cat that ate the canary. “You’ve finally taken my advice?” He got to the pen with his left hand, still setting off the occasional shot at any who dared peak around far enough for him to aim at with his right.

Q watched the feeds as a bullet just grazed one man’s arm. He ignored Bond though. “You’re going to have about ten seconds to run after you set it off.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to turn the end of it to the left until it clicks, then turn to the right until it clicks, throw, and run.” He wanted to stress the run part...he wasn’t entirely sure how big this explosion was going to be himself. Big enough it would take care of those men for sure, but he wasn’t sure Bond was out of the radius to be sure. 

“Ah, I could kiss you, Q.” He could hear the smile in Bond’s voice. 

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a promise, 007?” R laughed quietly, always finding his dry tone of voice funny. 

_Click._ “If I make it back? Absolutely.” _Click._ Q counted in his head, 1...2...3… “Where is it should be running to?” Bond asked, though it hardly mattered, he was already off. 6...7...8… “Towards that car park up ahead, I have something for you to test.” He watched the explosion carefully. Perhaps a little too much for what he was going for actually-- but he might have to take into account the flaming car as well. 

“You’ve got a car for me.” 

“No,” Q told him. “You don’t get any more cars until you start bringing my things back. There’s a key in your other pocket. Take your pick and use that key.”

Bond huffed. “And if it doesn’t work.”

One of the lower techs handed him a tablet. Mission briefs from Tanner. 006 in Hong Kong, to leave tonight. He nodded, handing the tablet off to R. “Then I know you know how to steal a car, 007. You don’t need my help.”

He chose the flashiest car in the lot of course, but the key did automatically unlock the door as it was supposed to. “Does this also start the car by any chance?” Bond asked. And Q told him yes. It was supposed to at any rate. Whether not it worked outside his own testing remained to be seen. 

Turning his comm off, he turned back to look at R. “Make sure medical is on that airplane before he is.” A pause. He would probably get Marlena at this time of year. She liked to use force. “And do tell Dr. Marlena that I said he’ll cave eventually, no brute force necessary. It’s not like he has another option.”

God knew he couldn’t go anywhere once he was on the plane. Unless he was planning a skydiving escape route and honestly Q wouldn’t put it past him, but the circumstances favored his own conclusion; he would sit down and get stitched up. He might bicker and argue and kick up a fuss, but he wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

The car had managed to start with the key he had made. “Alright, 007, R will give you directions to the airport.”

“Leaving me already?” Bond asked, almost jokingly. 

“I’m very tired,” he admitted. “So, yes.”

He hummed. “Until next time then, Quartermaster.” Q merely clicked his comma off in response, signaling to R that it was her turn. 

They’d been going since lunch and it was almost night now. He needed a break. And a shower. Probably a nap. R could handle getting him to the airport and making sure medical was handled. 

Q had only just sat down at his desk when someone came to stand in front of it. They weren’t one of his. A field agent probably judging from their sidearm. They cleared their throat awkwardly. “Miss Moneypenny requested that I remind you that you’ve been here for over twenty-four hours, Sir.” 

He checked his watch. Damn. “Thank you,” he waved them away. “Tell Miss Moneypenny she’s made her point. I’ll go home soon.”

They smiled grimly. “Thank you, Sir. She said to make you if you didn’t cooperate.” A pause. “I didn’t think that was a good idea on my part.”

“All things considered, probably not, no,” Q agreed. And they nodded, quickly skittering back off to Moneypenny. 

He gathered his things while he waited for R to get Bond safely on a plane. Finally done, he stopped and just listened to R and Bond chit-chat. Her back was to him so she didn’t know he was listening but they were talking about Q Branch of all things, as Bond made his way through the airport, avoiding security. 

“Yes, Q runs his branch smoother than most,” Bond commented and R agreed. 

“He does,” she agreed. “He doesn’t know when to stop though. Probably collapsed at his desk exhausted by now,” R half laughed. 

Q cleared his throat, catching her attention. “I’m going home actually,” he said. And she looked embarrassed but he shook his head. “Tell Bond to be nice to his doctor.” He waved as he made his way out of Q Branch.

Home, as always, was kind of a roundabout trip, taking the tube, two cabs, and then walking three blocks. If it weren’t for the precautions he had to take to not get followed home he could have been home from MI6 in twenty minutes most days. By the time he unlocked his front door, needless to say, he was more than a little exhausted. 

His apartment was...small. Ish. He could afford better honestly, but he liked it. It was home. Even with all it’s creaking floorboards dripping pipes, it was still home. He also thought it would have been a gigantic pain in his arse to actually move at this point. MI6 would be a stickler about it. The only reason they weren’t like that about this one was because it had been in his original contract. 

As he closed the door behind himself, he heard the soft pads of Líadan trotting up. “Hello, Líadan,” he greeted his cat gently, scooping her up and walking to the kitchen. “How was your day?” She only purred at him in response. “Yeah, mine too,” he agreed. Setting her down in the kitchen he put his kettle on before going to get his pajamas. Because he simply did not wear anything but the most comfortable clothes in the comfort of his own home. Not when he had to wear a tie to work every day. 

Picking up a granola bar he sat down to wait for his tea. He went through his mail while he had a moment. Of both the physical and ‘e’ variety. The email consisted of nothing much that he actually deemed of any import, being his personal email it was mostly junk, coupons, and various newsletters. The other mail did reveal something of interest when he unfolded an unaddressed letter. 

_**‘Old Friend,**_

_**Long time, no see, wouldn’t you say? I hear you work for MI6 now. Quartermaster even. How quaint. I’m sure the life is treating you well.** _

_**As for me, I’ve spread my wings further than you I believe. I’ve laid a plan you see and I think you might be interested.** _

_**I’ve included a way for you to find what you need to, should you want to help. If you’re really in this for Queen and country I suppose this ask is all for naught, but think about it before you start your fox hunt, won’t you?** _

The bottom was stamped with a red spider, the web address sprawled along below it. Q frowned. Old friend? Nothing good ever came from old friends. Not his. Standing up he clicked his kettle off, already suspecting he wouldn’t have a chance to make any tea anyways. 

He found his oldest, personal laptop, one with nothing relating to MI6 on it-- God forbid this be malware. Booting up his laptop only took a minute, loading the web address another, the apparent required hacking to get any further that ensued...Well, that was a good ten minutes of his life he’d never get back, but there were fruits to his labor. A photo appeared on his screen, it was a circular map, of London he thought; there was a set of mathematical equations to the right, then some Cypher. 

Then there was text, red, it said, ‘Come Find Me, Quartermaster.’ It dissolved into the image of a red spider and then looped. Q hummed. Interesting. Interesting, and dangerous. “This isn’t good,” he told Líadan, patting her absently. “Not at all.” He never could catch a break. Sighing, he pushed his laptop shut and got up. There really was no rest for the weary it seemed. 

Líadan meowed at him from where she still sat on the back of the couch. “I know. I know. I just got home. I’ll be back though.” Eventually. Probably after a lot of commotion and maybe a bodyguard forced upon him, but he’d be back.

* * *

* * *

Q had thought far enough ahead to make sure there was a doctor on his plane and not have him find out until they had taken off. Christ. Dr. Marlena didn’t even say anything, just waited to him to sit back down. They had been through this enough times that she didn’t have to. He didn’t see her often, but when he did she was liable to cause him an injury just to take a look at the other ones. It was an ironically effective method, but an effective method nonetheless; he had to give her that. He sighed, sitting back down. “Fine.”

She smiled at him. “Q said you would cave.” She had a slight American accent. He seemed to remember her once saying something about growing up in the states. It made him wonder how she had ended up being one of MI6’s top doctors. 

“Did he now?” James asked, leaning his head back and letting the woman take his vitals. 

She hummed, nodding as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “Yes, our good Quartermaster knows you quite well, I believe.” That was probably true, James thought. Probably, if he had any sense, he had read every intimate detail of his life he could get his hands on. And still chose to save his life on an almost daily basis. He wasn’t sure what that said about their ‘good Quartermaster’, but he supposed one shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. “He talks highly of you though, you know,” she said. 

“Hm?” 

“Don’t think I couldn’t see that look on your face,” she chuckled, continuing her examine. She shined a light in his eyes. “Follow my finger with your eyes,” she said, then went on, “You think our Quartermaster thinks poorly of you because he knows who you are. He doesn’t.” She smiled. “Quite the opposite actually.”

“That would be terribly surprising.” 

“It’s true,” she said and put her stethoscope on. She listened for a moment, taking his blood pressure. “A little high,” she noted quietly. “No surprise there.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“Why I don’t think it’s a surprise you have high blood pressure?” She cocked her head to the side, smiling lightly. “Mr. Bond, your job-“

“Q,” he interrupted. “Why do you think he thinks highly of me?”

She motioned for him to sit forward and he did. “He called me, Mr. Bond,” she said as he poked at the back of his scalp. Particularly at the tender spot he had been hit a few hours ago. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Stop poking it.” Why did doctors always insist on poking injured things and asking if it hurt? 

She laughed, sitting back. “We’ll get you to medical for a CT scan once we get back to England.”

He sighed. “What will it take for you to say that everything is fine and I don’t have to do that?” Everyone had a price. 

Dr. Marlena hummed, propping her elbow up in the edge of his seat. “Let’s say twenty bucks and a kiss.”

“Sounds fair,” he said, sitting up and putting a hand on the back of her neck. “You’ll have to wait for the twenty though.” And he kissed her. He was sure to make it a good one, didn’t want this all to be for nothing. 

She smiled against his mouth, half laughing. Leaning back, she wiped at the edge of her mouth. Then his-- she had been wearing lipstick. “That was very unethical of me,” she told him, patting his shoulder.

“Yes, it was.” He shrugged. Wasn’t as though he hadn’t done or seen worse. 

She grinned. “If your boffin gets upset, I’m not dealing with that.”

“ _My_ boffin?” James raised an eyebrow. 

She frowned at him. “The Quartermaster?” The way she said it made it sound like it should have been obvious. 

Q though? His? “That’s not-”

Dr. Marlena gave a short laugh. “Oh, don’t start lying to me now.”

His brows pulled together. “Q is not-”

“You care about him,” she interrupted. “You’re friends at least, but that’s half of how you end up in love, isn’t it?” Cocking her head at him, she stood up. “I’m not getting involved in whatever is going on.”

“Nothing is going on.” They were friends. Maybe. Probably not by most standards, but perhaps by James’. 

With careful fingers, she pulled his earpiece out and held it out to him. “You pulled this out of a glass of wine two days later for him.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He was going to say he hadn’t done it for him, but that wasn’t true, was it? Because he had. He had specifically gone back and gotten in out of that hotel room because he knew Q would complain and berate him about destroying the tech he made. James had gone back and found it. So he wouldn’t be angry at him obviously. Not because he cared that it meant more work for Q or that he was personally responsible for Q not getting enough sleep most days. 

Dr. Marlena patted his knee. “You’re still going to medical when we get home,” she told him standing up. She headed back towards her own seat but paused. “Oh, and Mr. Bond?” He looked back at her. “Someone who knows exactly who you are and still loves you are the people you should hold on to in my humble opinion.” She dropped the earpiece back into his hand. 

James frowned at the earpiece. Q didn’t love him. If anything the little boffin barely liked him. And James couldn’t blame him. Maybe the earpiece would make up for something though.

* * *

* * *

M’s office was a tight space with three. M, himself, and Moneypenny made for only standing room had someone else needed to come in. 

“Any ideas?” M asked. 

Q shrugged. “You know as well as I do that I have kept…bad company in the past, Sir.” He shrugged. “It was half the reason I was brought in, but this could be any number of people honestly.” He had never hidden his past, not from M. The new one or the old one. He had always laid all his cards in the table in that regard, in exchange he got to be an asset to MI6 and not a target. 

“They seemed certain you wouldn’t rat them out immediately.” M looked at him evenly. Not quite an accusation. Not quite a question. 

“And here I am,” Q said. There wasn’t anything more to say. Nothing to defend himself of. He hadn’t done anything. Nothing but remain loyal. He shrugged again. “They also seemed to know I was likely to turn them in as well, though.”

“Miss Moneypenny,” M looked to her now. 

“Yes, Sir?”

“Do you believe the Quartermaster is a danger to MI6 or in any pressing danger himself right now?”

Her answer was immediate. “No, Sir.” Her gaze never wavered. He appreciated that. 

“Go home then, Quartermaster,” M shook his head. “We’ll get together a team tomorrow, as soon as possible, sort this all out. Until then, you know our protocol and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He nodded, standing up. Moneypenny caught up to him as he was walking out. 

“I’m coming home with you,” Moneypenny told him, decidedly, hooking their arms together.  
He opened his mouth to protest but was instantly pinned down with a look that meant she had left no room for argument. 

Q sighed. “Thought you just said you didn’t think I was in any pressing danger?”

“I don’t,” she told him evenly. “But, I’m still coming to sleep on your couch just in case.” He scowled at her. “Just until we know what’s going on.”

“I hope for your sake then that Líadan still likes you.” The couch was her spot, Moneypenny would have to fight her for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumor: 007 kissed the Quartermaster in the middle of Q Branch...Confirmed. Several trustworthy eyewitnesses are said to have witnessed it personally, the double oh appearing to have been making a somewhat pointedly dramatic scene. Second in command, R, commented, saying only that she could neither confirm nor deny such an event taking place. Conclusion: 007 wants something from the Quartermaster.

It had been a few days of that by the time 007 waltzed back into Q Branch. He nodded only to R before coming to lean on Q’s work table. Q didn't look up, instead finishing what little he had left to do with covering up 006’s latest grand theft auto incident in Hong Kong. “What do you want, Bond?”

“I have equipment to bring back.” He set his Walther down on Q’s desk. A pause. “And I’m told you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of hot water, Quartermaster.” Q looked up at him finally but Bond only smiled, continuing his unarming. Next, he put down about a dozen bullets onto Q’s desk. One of them rolled off and across the floor. One of the lower level techs picked it up for him dutifully, setting it back on the edge of the table. Then his earpiece, as damaged and useless as it was. 

Still, it was more than he usually got back. He picked the earpiece up, pulling apart what he could without a screwdriver. “I didn’t get in hot water, hot water got on me,” Q told him defensively. It wasn’t his fault they had targeted him. He wondered what Bond had heard exactly. Gossip was an inevitability around MI6, but more often than not it was wildly incorrect. 

“Did you by any chance step on this at some point?” He picked up the earpiece Bond had set down, frowning at it. It was in worse shape than he had imaged. He didn’t remember anything worse than wine happening to it though. 

“That was someone else actually.” He smiled. 

“Sure,” Q rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they were wearing your shoes at the time too.” He stood up, gathering the Walther and other equipment to take back into their storage. To be cleaned as in the Walthers case and repaired as in the earpieces case. If it _could_ be repaired. 

Bond followed. Walking with him to the storage area, adjacent to Q Branch. “Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” Q shook his head, sticking the earpiece in the ‘to repair’ bin. He looked back at Bond. “I know it would only be a minor inconvenience, but you realize that I could send you out with nothing but a paperclip and a rubber band, right?”

Bond regarded him cooly, blue eyes watching him closely. “But you don't, do you?”

Q scoffed. “Of course I don’t.” That’d be a bit harsh, wouldn’t it? Bond was a bit of a bastard sometimes, but risking his life wasn’t exactly called for. He put the Walther into its case and snapped it shut. “You try to give me plenty of reasons to do that though, don’t you?” He said, moving around Bond to go back to Q Branch-- 003 would be needing assistance soon if he had been correct about her needing that train ticket. Of course, he had already gotten R to acquire it for her, they just needed to arrange getting it to her. 

“I did bring your things back this time, didn’t I?” Bond asked, keeping pace behind him. 

“You did. Thank you,” Q threw his hands up. “What more can I ask for I suppose. But is there something else you need from me, 007 or do you just like to follow me around while I work?” He stopped, now in the middle of Q Branch despite all the foot traffic. Bond made for a good traffic stop-- most everyone changing their path to avoid the two of them. It was his department though, he could damn well do what he wanted in it. The others would simply have to deal with it. 

Bond was dangerously close now though. Q automatically took a step back. When any of the double ohs were this close, they were up to something one way or the other, but he felt particularly like a target when it came to 007. Probably because of that look he got in his eye when he managed to do something to upset Q. “What are you doing?” He asked, quietly. 

Bond shrugged. “I made a promise, didn’t I?” 

_‘If I make it back? Absolutely.’_ Q flushed. And there was that look again. Like he was a mouse and Bond was the cat. But he couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be. Could he? 

“That was a joke.” Q shook his head, half laughing. He was not seriously being propositioned by James Bond in his own branch of MI6 while he was on the job. 

“Oh, I’m a man of my word, Quartermaster.” And just when Q snorted, Bond took his face in his hands and kissed him. Loudly. Showily. Knocking his glasses askew and ruffling his hair. Q was too surprised to do anything but let it happen. Bond stepped away first. “You’re gonna have to take me to dinner for more than that.” 

There was a long moment of shock that prevented Q from saying anything, but before Bond was out the door he managed, “Oh, I doubt that! I’ve seen your mission briefs, Bond, I know how you are!”

All of Q branch was staring now. Half of them in awe, the other in confusion. He swallowed, waving them off. “Back to work, all of you.” He straightened his glasses, retreating back into his office.

* * *

* * *

He didn’t normally bother to attend meetings, but he supposed when Moneypenny texted him about it, it was important. So, he got there early, to corner her and ask. He wanted to know what was going on, not sit through a meeting.

He walked in to find Moneypenny setting briefs down on around a long oval table. Her head snapped up when he came in. “James Bond, you’re a menace,” Moneypenny told him, pure scorn lacing her tone. “You should be held down and…” she paused, obviously looking for the right threat. “And, I don’t know but we’d figure it out once we got you down.”

“Hello to you too,” James told, only a little confused by the undeserved threats. “And you’re one to talk. My shoulder still aches when it rains.”

She shook her head in disgust. “I know how you are. Don’t do _that_ again.” She slapped another file down on the table. 

He sat down, crossing his arms. “I have to say, I don’t know what you’re talking about this time, darling.”

Miss Moneypenny looked up only to glare at him. “Leave Q alone,” she told him pointedly. “He doesn’t need...whatever it is you’re trying to do.” 

“Why do you think I’m trying to do something?”

Moneypenny snorted. “We both know you have a thing for cute, smart, brunette’s who tug on your heartstrings just a little.”

“Now that’s-”

“Unfair?” She shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe a bit unfair to Q too, though, isn’t it?” 

“Why does everyone seem to think I have it out for the Quartermaster?”

She stared at him, hands going to her hips. “You kissed him in the middle of Q Branch just a few hours ago.” She sounded completely unsurprised somehow. 

But news travels fast apparently. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t helping this particular accusation. “I had made a promise.” James shrugged. Admittedly, he had also been a little curious. He had half expected to be tased actually, or at least bitten, but Q seemed too surprised to actually do either of those things. He had kissed back though. And that seemed to say more than anything really. He just wasn’t quite sure what that was yet. “Q didn’t complain,” he told Moneypenny. He had yelled at him a bit but that wasn’t really a complaint in his opinion. 

Moneypenny raised an eyebrow at him. “Remember how you said I was one to talk? I’ve shot you once, Bond. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” She mimed a pistol with her fingers, shooting him once in the head. 

James chuckled. Miss Moneypenny was always so entertaining. “Well, you better make sure I stay dead next time,” he warned, though the words held no real heat. If she really wanted him dead, he’d have been maggot food long ago. 

“Is that a challenge?” She smirked. After a moment she went back to placing the briefs around the table, setting one pointedly away from him, but was obviously meant for whoever was to sit in his chair. “You don’t get to read that unless you stay.”

“Is it something I’d actually be interested in?” He asked, trying to reach for it before she snatched it back. 

“I’d say so, but you won’t know unless you stay, will you?” She smiled brightly at him. 

He scowled. “You’re so mean to me.”

Moneypenny shrugged, throwing up one hand in dismissal. “Let’s face it, it’s the only way to keep you in line.”

He just smiled at her, kicking his feet up on the conference table while he waited since he supposed this was enough to pique his interest. 

As the other double ohs slowly began to fill in this interest only increased. Alec sat beside him, looking just as surprised to see James as James was to see him. Neither of them were known for coming to meetings. None of them were in fact.

He glanced over at Moneypenny, semi impressed with her ability to get such a turn out out of them. She winked, smirking as she went over her own paper. 

“You know what’s going on?” Alec asked. 

“Nope.” Just then, M entered, sitting down at the head of the table, Moneypenny to his right-- as always. 

A moment passed, Moneypenny whispering to him and showing papers before he sat back. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m sure you’re all aware of the most recent threats made against the life of our Quartermaster.”

At that James perked up. Moneypenny has been correct. This was something of interest. He had heard Q had gotten into some trouble, but no one had elected to mention that the trouble was an actual threat.

* * *

* * *

“006?” Q squinted, with his glasses off he could only vaguely guess at the fuzzy silhouette he saw. He finished cleaning his glasses and saw that, yes, it was Alec Trevelyan standing in front of his desk. 

“Quartermaster,” he nodded. 

Q readjusted his glasses. “What can I do for you?” He asked. Trevelyan wasn’t scheduled for any missions and as far as Q could remember he didn't have anything to return. No one had requested anything to be tested. Other than those things, agents had little reason to visit Q Branch, especially Q himself. R, Moneypenny, and Bond were about the only ones who dared come into his office unannounced. His work table was one thing, his office another. 

“M has gotten us to set up your round the clock bodyguard, I’m first up.”

Q stared at him. “You’re kidding.” He had known this was somewhat inevitable, but he thought Moneypenny playing sleepover would have already put the brakes it being round the clock. Especially with a double oh. This was just plain overkill. 

006 just shook his head, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “‘Fraid not, Quartermaster.” He crossed his arms. “I’m with you until midnight.” He must have noticed Q’s scowl, holding his hands up in defense. “It wasn’t my idea, Q. Just doing what I’m told.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, 006.” It was going to be a long day for the both of them he supposed. Q with 006 on his heels all damn day, and 006 having nothing better to do than stare at the walls. 

With a sigh Q went back to his work. Until 006 started tapping his heels, obviously bored. A very long day then. 

It wasn’t until around ten o’clock that Trevelyan began to actually complain. “Are you ever going to go home?” he asked, looking at his watch. “Haven’t you been here since six this morning?”

Q hummed absently. “When I’m done working. Some of us have a lot of work they have to do.” He glared over his monitor to glare at the other man. “Especially when other agents downright refuse to do any paperwork.”

“We have reputations to maintain,” he tried, then sighed. “You know, I hate when James is right.”

That made Q pause, not only because it was a strange hearing anyone not on a mission calling him ‘James’, but he wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. What had ‘James’ said?  
“Is that...relevant right now?” Q asked. 

“He said you’d be here until it was _his_ shift tomorrow evening.” Trevelyan yawned. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s right going at this rate.”

Q blinked. “ _He_ was included in this?” He ignored the dig at his working-- some of them didn’t have the luxury of blowing up buildings and killing men and leaving the rest for someone else to clean up, especially as part of the cleanup crew. The sheer fact that Bond had agreed to such a boring task was beyond him thought. 

“Yeah, but from what I’ve heard, that sounds like fun for you, doesn’t it?” 006 wiggled his eyebrows at him. 

Gossip got around too fast. Especially gossip about him. He had just decided. “That’s not what happened. Or it is,” he amended, “but that isn’t why it happened. It was a joke,” he shook his head. “A very bad one too.”

006 chuckled. “Well, we’ve all got reputations to uphold I suppose,” Trevelyan said conversely.

Q scoffed. “Oh, fuck off, 006.” And Trevelyan just laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Both his and 006’s head snapped up when his office door opened unexpectedly. It was Bond. He stood in the doorway. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. “Out,” he told Alec, walking over to the chair he was occupying. 006 arched an eyebrow at him. After a moment, some silent communications going on between them, and Trevelyan left, closing the door behind him. 

“Bond.”

“Q.”

“Where’ve you been, then?” Bond had gone off the radar for about a week now. He had never shown up for any of his ‘shifts’, 003 replacing him when she returned. 

Several flash drives dropped on his desk. “Here and there.” He shrugged. 

“And what should I expect to find from these?” Q asked lightly, picking one of them up to examine. They were all Q Branch issued, though he couldn’t imagine how he had managed to get his hands on so many at once as an agent. Unless he nicked them, but that seemed unlikely

Bond smirked. “I bring you gifts and you don't even say thank you.” Q stared at him. Waiting. He sighed. “Everything I managed to find about your friend from contacts in the area. Figure you’re bound to put something together with all of it. Only thing solid I got was ‘probably in the British Isles’.”

Q hummed. They’d be lucky if he had found anything Q Branch hasn’t managed to uncover already. Still. He supposed it was a sort of gesture by way of double oh thinking. Like a cat bringing it’s owner a dead mouse. “Thank you, Bond.” He nodded. 

When Bond didn’t get up or say anything, Q went on. “You know they’ve been complaining about you...Constantly.” Alec especially. Q was almost certain he just liked complaining though. If it wasn’t 007 he was complaining about it was Q himself. Apparently, having to sit with Q all the time meant he was keeping him from his wife. Q always reminded him that if it were up to him, he would be free to go, it was M that was keeping him from his wife really.

Bond shrugged. “They knew what I was doing.”

“They also knew you weren’t showing up to give them a break,” Q told him, getting up. Supposed, while he had him here he might as well take care of something. “You’re due for another mission, you know. Got the report today.” Q stopped, cocking his head to the side, realizing what he had just said. “Suppose you do actually.” He got the Walther case down from the shelf on the right side of the room. “You wouldn’t have come back if you hadn’t, would you?” He looked over to Bond curiously, passing him the case. 

007 didn’t hesitate, snapping the case open and taking the pistol out. “There was something else too,” he murmured, looking over the Walther. It was as pristine as anytime Q had handed it over, he wasn’t sure why he was inspecting it so hard now. “Have you ever thought of putting a tracker in this?” He looked up at Q, who had leaned against his desk. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, bafflement temporarily leaving him without words. Finally, he managed, “No, 007, because we put a tracker in _you_ and as badly as I want you to return your equipment, it would be a wasted effort to track everything I give you.” A pause. “I don’t need GPS location to tell me when you’ve left your Walther at the bottom of the ocean.”

Bond clicked his tongue. “I always forget about that tracker. Until someone rips it out again, I guess.”

Q frowned. He supposed that had happened a few times. “I’ll see what I can do about fixing that.” Something that couldn’t be ripped out. It had happened to more than Bond too. Something internal seemed invasive though. He’d consider it more later. Maybe there was something he could do.

007 cocked his head at him but said nothing about it. “Is this all then or will you be giving me some paper clips?”

Q hummed, heading towards the door. “Nothing so mundane this time, I’m afraid, but something you’ll like.” 006 was leaning against the wall outside when he walked out. He motioned for both the agents to follow. “Come on then.”

“You’re really going to let him use it?” Alec asked when the three of them stepped into the lift. Q hit the button for the garage, the doors closing promptly. 

“He’s going to need it to get around this time.”

“He’ll ruin it.”

“None of you have any faith in me,” Bond interrupted. 

“James, you wreck every single car MI6 gives to you.” Alec looked baffled. “On purpose half the time,” he stressed. 

The lift dinged, the doors sliding opening quietly. “If he ever wants another one from me, he’ll take care of this one,” Q said absently, stepping out into the garage. 

The place was as well lit as Q could ever get it, which had taken some doing when he was working on it actually. They walked by many a white van and various other inconspicuous cars and SUVs until they got to the beginning of Q Branch’s more...specialized cars. Nothing anyone in Billings was excited about, but Q squeezed them into his own budget, with some help from Moneypenny and Tanner, but nonetheless. 

Finally, they came to what he had been working on. The Aston Martin. The DB11 to be specific. Onyx Black.

Ironically, Billings had no right to complain about this one. It had been a gift from a friend of his. The fact that he chose to modify it like this, well...maybe someone in PR could complain about that one, but for now-- no one had noticed and he’d be damned if _he_ was going to tell anyone. 

“I’ve included the standard in your cars, 007, as well as some new things you might find interesting, but probably won’t need.”

“God, never say that to him,” Alec shook his head, going to lean against one of the other Aston Martin’s a few spaces away. “He considers it a challenge, I think.” He scowled at Bond now. “I learned my lesson when I told you that you couldn’t break that rifle.”

“Would you rather have been the thing I dropped before the explosion?” Bond asked, crossing his arms. 

Alec laughed. “Yeah, actually. I loved that gun, James.” He shook his head. 

“Would have thought you valued your life a little bit more.”

Q sighed, pulling out the keys. “Well, I’m getting into the car, if anyone wants to actually see what I did to it.” Unsurprisingly, Bond dropped it, following him to the car. Q let him take the driver’s seat. Bond held his hand out for the key. 

“Is this my reward then? For bringing my things back?” 007 asked, going to grab the keys from Q, but instead just ended up with his hand in Q’s when he didn’t let him have the key. 

“No,” Q said, still not letting the key go and Bond not taking his hand away. “Because if you break _it, I will break _your kneecaps__.” He let go of the key and, almost regrettably, Bond’s hand. 

Bond tutted, putting the key into the ignition. “Now, that’s not very nice.”

“No,” Q agreed, “but this car is. So, take care of it and don’t drive it off a cliff, hm?” He plastered on a fake smile to make his point. 

“Oh, I’ll do my best, Quartermaster.” Bond smiled back. Q went on to tell him all that he had done to the car, which wasn’t anything much he wouldn’t have expected, save a few things. Bond beat him to the last thing before he could even begin on it. “Ejector seat?” He asked. 

“Only seemed right.” Q shrugged. He had consulted quite a few other Q Branch Aston Martin alterations from the past. All of them had, for some reason, included ejector seats. It had taken some work, but he figured why not at that point. “All that and lost none of its power and speed.” He clicked his tongue. “Maybe some of its lightness, but that can’t be helped I’m afraid.” When you add heavy artillery to a luxury car, well, you had to sacrifice something. So, he had improved the engine, what little he could, to keep things even, and added a little bit of weight. 

Bond’s eyes flicked between Q and the open passenger door. He hummed. “Shut the door.”

Q looked at him for a moment, considering, knowing exactly what was lurking behind those pretty blue eyes. He closed the door anyway. 

Trevelyan’s protests were barely heard by the time Bond had shifted into gear and was off. Q only settled in, tuning the radio to something that wasn’t static. “Where are we going?” He asked. 

“Nowhere in particular.” Bond shrugged, slowing down for the gate out of MI6. When he let down the window to talk to the guard, he only said, “We’ll be back shortly.”

Q pushed his glasses back up his nose. “You know, some of us do have work to do.” He had turned the other way out of MI6, down the road that lead to all of nowhere for quite a few miles. 

“What? You don’t want to see how your car handles?”

Q snorted. “You think I’d do all this work on it and never drive it myself?” He laughed, shaking his head. “No, Bond, I know how this car handles.” He had almost kept it for himself too. Probably the only reason he didn’t is because he didn’t have anywhere to keep it. 

Bond smiled. “I bet you don’t drive like I do though.” He glanced over at Q, already speeding up as they got onto clearer roads. 

Q laughed again. “Damn good thing too.” He had seen Bond drive plenty of times on missions, he was fast, didn’t obey traffic laws, and well, if he traded paint with another car, so be it. Come to think of it though, this was probably the first time he had ever been in a car with Bond. Or even been alone with him for more than five minutes. 

It was...nice actually. Bond wasn’t one of those people one felt they had to make conversation with when silence fell. They just were. Q appreciated it. 

They had been driving for quite a while, only the radio interrupting the quiet when Bond stopped. He looked over at Q. “I can hear you thinking from all the way over here.”

“I’m a loud thinker.” A pause. “Too much to think about.” It was a bit of a problem. He was an overthinker. Thought too far ahead. Thought too deeply about things that didn’t need it. And maybe that was a sort of problem, but it was also why he was good at his job. 

Bond hummed. “I bet.” He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “I could probably help with that.” He put a hand on the back of Q’s neck, sending chills down his spine. 

Q laughed, looking over at him. It was a small car though, they were already almost nose to nose. “You’re very confident, aren’t you?”

Bond shrugged. “Unfortunate part of the charm, I’m afraid,” he smiled. And damn him, it was one genuine enough, reaching his eyes enough, that could have stopped and restarted Q’s heart. So, Q did what anyone would have done at that moment and leaned over to kiss him. 

This one was...less for show than the last, Bond taking his face in his hands, kissing him slowly and deeply. “Is this helping?” Bond asked, leaning back for a moment. Q pulled him back by the front of his shirt, barely having caught his breath but determined on not answering. Just...one more kiss. Just one more and he would never have to think about it again. Or at least that’s what he would tell himself. 

When he leaned back, Bond asked, “Do you want to drive back then?” Q merely shook his head. Bond nodded, putting the car back into gear and turning around, heading back to MI6. 

He drove slower on the way back, if only a bit. The man at the gates of MI6 just scowled at Bond when they came back through. Obviously, used to and perpetually annoyed with the man. Bond drove round to the front entrance rather than the garage. 

“You're going to take my car home, aren’t you?” He asked before stepping out. 

“Maybe after a while.”

Q shook his head, sighing. “Fine, but if you lose this car, I promise I will break your kneecaps,” Q told him. “And at your age, I think we both know that wouldn’t bode well for your career.” He stepped out of the car. 

“You wound me, Quartermaster.” He smiled. Q shook his head, closing his eyes. 007 would be the death of him, he was certain. He pushed the door shut, turning to go back into work. 

He went home that night and fell into bed. He had had to stay late, Bond’s little drive had made him miss quite a few things and he had ended up with more work that he would have originally. He didn’t even bother to eat. Which Líadan protested by sitting on his back and meowing. Too bad for her that didn’t really work. It wasn’t until later that he woke. It was his phone that did it, ringing loudly enough to scare both him and Líadan.

“Hello,” he said, though it came out mostly as ‘hllo’, with his face still half buried in a pillow. 

“Quartermaster,” Bond responded, voice smooth as honey. 

There was a long moment of silence. Q’s brain processing a number of things about how and why what was happening was happening, before he finally said, “Moneypenny gave you my number. Why?” He reached across the bed and found his glasses, the only thing he had bothered to take off last night when he got home. 

“She thought it was for the best.”

“Pray tell, what are you ringing me at,” he paused, looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “three in the morning for then?” Q had not moved from his original position and it would take a damn good reason for him to do so at this point. 

“My laptop isn’t working.”

“Wha?” He sat up finally. He hadn’t expected to hear from Bond for quite a while since he was supposed to be gone for his mission by now. He certainly hadn’t expected to be acting as tech support for him. 

“I need to use it. It won’t boot up.”

“I...007, you understand-’

“That you’re the Quartermaster of MI6, yes, and this is a glorified tech support call.”

“At three in the morning.” Q took his glasses off so he could rub his eyes properly, only feeling slightly better after having rubbed the gritty sleep from them. 

“You did say that as well, yes.”

“I was sleeping.” And he was too tired to be mad about it. “What’s the problem?” Q dragged himself out of bed with a sigh. If he was going to be awake he might as well make some tea and eat something. Líadan would appreciate it too probably. 

Q listened and directed Bond as he found the things he needed for...whatever meal this counted as. His tea tin was already out, strangely. He had thought he had put it up last time. Shrugging at the fact, he continued with it while he waited for Bond to get his laptop back up and running. The problem having been, mostly, that it was old as dirt by technology standards. “You know Q Branch would give you a better laptop if you would-”

“Just take care of them?” Bond interrupted. 

“Yes.” Q took a sip of his tea. The tea tasted strange, but it was what he had so he picked up his scone and heading back towards his bed. “Well, I’m so glad I could start my morning like this-- at three in the morning.” The floorboards creaked under his feet as he neared his bed, as they always did. Setting his things down in the bed, he set his cup of tea before going back for his own laptop. Just in case he needed to help Bond further. 

“I think it’s working again.”

Q barely heard him. His head suddenly hurting out of nowhere, enough to almost make him drop his phone. He stopped, putting a hand to his head. Migraines were rare for him. Supposed they happened though. Especially at three in the morning when James Bond was calling him for tech support. 

He sighed, continuing on to get his laptop from his desk. It felt like the breath had been knocked out of him when he saw there was a folded notecard sitting on top of the laptop itself though. With shaky hands, he picked it up. 

_**Enjoy your tea, Quartermaster.**_

Once again, signed with a spider at the bottom. 

His head was spinning now. “Oh,” Q gasped, gripping his desk so he didn’t fall over. 

“What?”Bond asked, almost sounding worried. 

Q squeezed his eyes shut, heart racing. “Nothing. Nothing, it’s fine. I’ve just been poisoned is all.”

* * *

* * *

After several calls and a long phone conversation with R, Q was safe in a hospital and he was on a flight back home. And once back home, to Q. To hell with MI6. 

Alec Trevelyan was at the hospital waiting for him in the car park. “A sports car, James? Really?” He eyed the car as Bond got out. 

James looked back at it. “What’s wrong with it?” It was a slightly older model, but there wasn’t anything wrong with it. 

“Bit flashy, innit?” Despite his words, Alec smiled, nodding his appreciation.

The car Q had presented him with last had more flash going for it than this one did. “I’m not undercover,” he told Alec plainly, moving on towards the hospital entrance. He was here for a reason. And he wouldn’t have had to have been either if the man beside him had been doing his job. “Why’d you let our Quartermaster get poisoned?” 

“Oh, is he _ours_ now?” Alec asked, keeping pace beside him as they went in. “Because from what I recall of all your phone calls last night he was _your_ Quartermaster.” 

James stopped, just as they had gotten to the entrance, turning to face him. “Is there something you’d like to say to me, Alec?” He crossed his arms. Alec always had something to say. He had something to say, sure as London was dreary. 

006 looked contemplative for a moment, sizing up the situation. “Just that you seem to have an attachment to the Quartermaster. It worries me.” He shrugged, looking away. 

James chewed on that one only for a moment. His attachment wasn’t what had gone wrong here. It was Alec’s negligence of his duties. “Maybe if you were as attached as I was he wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

Alec laughed softly, eyes coming back to meet his. “Maybe so, but if I were attached to him like you were you’d probably kick my arse.”

“I’m considering it now actually.” James continued on in to the hospital, leaving him there. 

He got the receptionist to point him in the right direction- Moneypenny had apparently gotten him admitted under the name ‘Ben Burton’, or so she had said when he called her last. Suppose he’d see for sure when he got to room 1962.

He knocked softly twice before opening the door. “He’s not awake,” Moneypenny said as soon as she saw him. He went on to Q’s bedside anyways. “They said it’ll be a while before he is,” she said watching him as he picked up the chart off the end of the bed.

“Well,” he said, flipping through things, “They’ve given him enough drugs to knock out a damn horse, I’d expect not.” His eyes flashed up to hers. They reflected the same worry. It had been close. Very close. 

Even the nurse had noted in the chart that it had nearly been a DOA. They had resuscitated him twice in the ambulance. James sighed, sitting down on the end of the bed. Q looked only slightly worse for wear. At least on the outside. He imagined that when he woke up, he would feel far worse than he looked. For now, though, he was just pale, not that he had ever had much color to begin with. 

“MI6 will get him checked out later, but the doctors here said everything should clear his system within the day.”

James nodded. Good. He’d feel better when MI6 said so, but it would do for now. “They were in his flat again,” he noted quietly. Moneypenny nodded. “He can’t stay there anymore.” It wasn’t an option. 

“No,” she agreed. “We’ll be arranging a safehouse.”

“Alec-“ he began but stopped when she looked up. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” she shook her head. “I had said I would take over that night. I...I...I was running late and I ended up going home first and I...I don’t know I fell asleep.” Tears were welling up. “It’s my fault. I should have-“

He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not. It was an accident. A bad one,” he acknowledged. “But, we’re going to get this taken care of and he’s going to be fine.”

She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. “He better be fine,” she said. “Or I’ll kill him.” Only the faint sound of her sniffling and the _beep...beep...bee_ p of Q’s heart monitor interrupting the silence. 

After a while, James finally sighed. He couldn’t sit there all day, unfortunately. He patted Moneypenny on the shoulder once more and then turned to Q. Leaning down he placed a small kiss on top of his head. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured. He gave Moneypenny not another glance as he walked out. No need for that judgment or wrath today. 

Alec was waiting for him when he exited the hospital, smoking next to his car. “We will get whoever this is,” he said, pointing a finger at him. 

James half snorted, shaking his head. “You want me to trust you on this? After you let him get poisoned?” He knew he wasn’t exactly responsible, but...partly. He should have stayed until someone else had gotten there. 

“Oh, I would never expect you to trust me, James,” Alec laughed, smiling now. “You only trust people you’re in love with and God knows you and I have had a lot of things between us, but romance has yet to be one of them.” 

“That’s because you turn me down every time I try to give you a ring,” James shook his head at him. “Think of the years we could have been together by now.”

“Oh yes, cottage by the sea and all that. Seems very us.” Alec nodded sagely. “I would be a carpenter and widdle, you would...care for sheep and cheat on me with our neighbors or something.” He shrugged, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it under his foot. 

“So picturesque,” James agreed. “I’m sure they love us at the market.”

“Of course.” He clicked his tongue. “All the old ladies call you ‘a good lad’ and you carry their things for them.”

“I’m obviously a very kind man,” his tone dripped with sarcasm. 

“I wouldn’t have married you if you weren’t.” Alec threw up his hands. After a moment he sighed, “You’re off then?”

James couldn’t help but chuckle. “So the psychiatrists tell me, but yes. He’s fine. Should probably go home for a bit.

* * *

* * *

He woke up in a hospital oddly. He had been expecting MI6. Moneypenny was there, sitting next to his bed. She looked worried. Very worried in fact. “What?” He asked, his voice hoarse. Moneypenny gave him his glasses when he went to grab for them. Murmuring a thank you, he put them back on, thankful to see more than a blur of everything now. Again he asked though, “What? What happened?” He couldn’t remember himself, but it couldn’t have been that bad. 

Moneypenny opened her mouth, then closed it. She sighed, leaning forwards, pulling on her fingers nervously. “Your heart stopped.” A pause. “Twice.” She grimaced. 

“Oh.” Suppose that would explain why his chest felt so weird. “Whoops.” He closed his eyes again, tired. They must have been giving him some very good drugs. He was, as they say, feeling no pain. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that ever again.” He heard her sniff. 

He opened his eyes back, concerned. Never, not ever in all the time had they known each other had Q known Eve Moneypenny to cry. Not over him, not over M, not over a boy, not anyone. “Okay,” he told her, almost trying to will this pain away with the word. 

“Good.” She nodded. 

“Which hospital is this?” He asked, mentally recalling different statistics and records of local hospitals he had checked out in the past. He hoped this wasn’t one of the ones that reported all the malpractice and negligence cases about a year ago. 

“London Bridge,” she said. “Bond came by, by the way.”

Q frowned. “Wasn’t he supposed to be in Spain by now?” He was certain he was, in fact. 

“He got 002 to take over for him.”

“I’m sure he loved that, but...why?” The fact seemed like a piece of a puzzle that didn’t go to this particular puzzle. That, or there was something he was missing. 

“He had to come back to make sure you didn’t die.”

“Not sure ‘had to’ is the right phrase here, seeing as how I’m fine.”

“You almost died, Q.”

“Almost,” he noted. “Almost is not actually dying.”

“Some things are too close to call, Q.”

He sighed. “I know.” If their jobs taught them nothing it was that close calls were sometimes far too close for comfort. “Fine. Fine, I almost died, but it still doesn’t mean anything to Bond.” He shrugged. Sure, they had kissed a couple of times, but Q had seen him kiss plenty of people, it wasn’t as though it was really anything but a passing interest of his. And while the thought made him a bit queasy actually, Q had settled it with himself-- he was not of any importance in this situation. Just a passing fancy. 

Moneypenny just sighed at him. “You’re my best friend, but for the smartest person I know, you’re really dumb, you know that?”

“If this is your way of saying you love me and you’re glad I didn’t die, you’re doing really badly at it, Eve.” He ignored the underlying implications. Mostly because it wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Too complicated. He kind of just wanted to go back to sleep now. 

She snorted, but took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I love you and I’m glad you didn’t die.”


	4. Chapter 4

Alec pursed his lips, looking between Q and Moneypenny as they stood at the reception desk, waiting for the nurse to give them the last papers Q needed to sign to leave. “You’re going then?” Moneypenny asked. She had been getting annoyed with his hovering since they had given Q permission to go home. 

He nodded. “Yeah. I have a meeting with M later.” He took a step, then stopped. Looking at Q now, he said, “Oh, and James said to tell you not to drink anymore poisoned tea.” 

“What a bastard,” Q said, though there was little venom behind his words. Then, “Tell him I said so.”

“Can do, _Quartermaster_.” Alec smiled and for some reason, it just annoyed Q to no end. 

When he had walked away Q looked over at Moneypenny. “I wonder if anyone has ever told him he’s annoying?” 

“I know I have,” Moneypenny giggled. Q laughed, nodding to the nurse who handed him a clipboard, signing it and handing it back immediately. He wanted to get out of here. Hospitals gave him the creeps. Moneypenny hooked an arm over his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here, boffin. We’ve got you a new place to sleep.” She spread her fingers, gesturing as she said, “The finest safehouse in all of London.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Q rolled his eyes. “MI6 is known for its five-star safehouses. I hear all the agents talk about them with great fondness.” That is, if fondness including scoring them at every opportunity. He had yet to meet an agent who liked their safehouse. Perhaps though, it was less about quality and more about their own dignity-- none of them ever thought they needed protecting. 

When they arrived, Q saw that Moneypenny hadn’t been bluffing. It actually was a very nice house. Nicer than his flat, actually. He wasn’t sure if that said something more about him or MI6. 

With none of his things he felt out of place. The place felt like a hotel, but with an edge of uncertainty. Danger was lurking. “We’ll get some of your things from your flat tomorrow,” Moneypenny told him as he stood in the middle of the den. “Doctor said you had to eat though.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “What do you want?”

He shrugged, not particularly in the mood to eat. “You pick.” Getting poisoned had done nothing for his appetite really. Vaguely, he could remember, in the ambulance on the way to the hospital before he passed out, retching so hard he couldn’t breathe. His neighbor had been...concerned, to say the least. 

That was who Bond had called- his neighbor- well, he supposed it was Bond and R who had done it, but they had called her nonetheless. He wondered what lie they had fed to her. 

Moneypenny ended up ordering Chinese, getting them an array of dishes to pick at over dinner. After he had picked at his honey shrimp for a while she cleared her throat. “You know you’re playing with fire, don’t you, Q?” Moneypenny asked, pointing a chopstick at him across the table. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her honestly, frowning. Did she mean the poisoning? He had hardly had a choice in that. Maybe she meant whoever was toying with him like this.

Moneypenny laughed. Loudly. Throwing her head back even. “You’re kidding.” She cocked her head at him. 

“I-” He searched for words. “No. I really don’t know what you’re on about here, Eve,” he admitted. 

She sighed, clearly exasperated. “You know what I’m on about? I’m on about James fucking Bond having a thing for you and neither of you can even be bothered to notice. For two of the smartest people I know you’re pretty thick.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “I’d be amazed if I didn’t think the whole thing was ridiculous.”

Q frowned. “You’re being…”

“Right?” She supplied, smiling. 

He scowled. “I was going to say silly, but now that doesn’t seem a strong enough word.” 

“Well, you know what else is silly? The rumors I’ve been hearing about you, _Quartermaster_.”

Sighing, he asked, “What rumors?” For a secret service MI6 really did have a problem with personal rumors. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that they couldn’t tell people about their missions and so they confided in each other however they were allowed, gossip being the main way. 

“According to the latest gossip around MI6, something is going on between you and a certain double oh.”

“That-“

“They have good reason to too. He kissed you. And you went for a drive. Together. Alone. And he just left a mission to come check on you in the hospital. Hell, I’m kind of wondering what’s going on, too.”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Nothing is going on. We just-” Stopping, he sighed. “I don’t know.”

There was a long moment of silence between them when finally, Moneypenny sighed. “Do you know why he’s so good at card games?” She asked. 

Q gave a half shrug. “I suspect you’ll tell me if I don’t.”

“He’s excellent at reading people and lying, which makes him a good agent.” A pause. “But he’s bad at not getting attached, which makes him a bad agent.”

“Which one is it then?” Q smiled. Moneypenny had always had conflicting opinions of 007. From the first day he had asked her about him till now. 

“Lately?” She shrugged. “A good one. And he likes being a good agent, I think, but the thing is, all of these things combined, Q? They make for a difficult man to live with.”

“I’m sure he’s well aware.”

“Probably.” She shrugged. “But sometimes his heart gets in the way of his sense. That,” she said, “And it’s dangerous. Even being his friend, much less…” She trailed off, looking down at dinner. “Well, you’ve read the reports.”

He nodded. He had. Most of them were much to the standard of double oh missions. Some of them, well, he could see where things had gone wrong. Sighing, he shook his head. “I really don’t think it’s anything, Eve.” Much as he might have wanted it to be, it wasn’t. That much was obvious. He shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. A passing fancy.” Moneypenny looked skeptical. “What? Bond strike you as someone to settle down? Ever?” 

She just shook her head, standing up. “He’s been known to try.” Leaning down she dropped a kiss on top of his head. “I’m going to bed. You should rest too. Doctors orders.”

“Doctors? Or you?” He asked. 

She paused briefly. “Both.” 

Q just rolled his eyes, picking around at what food was left. He’d sleep when he was dead. Which, maybe wouldn’t actually be all that too far away at the rate he was going. 

The next day in Q Branch, Moneypenny still with him, he was surprised when Bond knocked on his office door. Moneypenny excused herself, saying something about going to grab lunch for the two of them. She pointedly scowled at Bond before shutting the door behind her though. 

Bond just watched, then turned back to him. “And how are you, Quartermaster?”

“I feel like I just got out of the hospital.” He almost kept going but stopped. “What do you want?” Bond merely raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t come down here unless you have a reason, what do you want?”

“Can’t I just come down to see if you’re well?”

Q looked at him over the monitor to see if he was joking. “Not usually.”

“You don’t usually have to have your heart restarted twice.” He tapped his knuckles on the edge of his chair. “Figured it warranted a check in.”

He hummed tiredly, not looking what he was doing. “Suppose so. Would have thought that was why you visited me in the hospital though.”

Monetarily, Q noticed Bond’s mouth turn down at the sides before quickly smoothing itself out again. “Moneypenny told you?” 

Q nodded. He had mostly tried not to think about it. That was a dangerous game in his opinion. Talking to Bond, seeing Bond, none of that was what Moneypenny had called ‘playing with fire’-- thinking about him was. Thinking about him would lead to hoping and wondering and stupid ideas. Everything he knew better than to do. So, he wouldn’t wonder the whys and the what fors of Bond and his hospital visit and his now visit. Or any of the other things he did that were probably just idle fascination rather than anything serious. 

Bond interrupted his not thinking about him, saying, “The stars were very beautiful there.”

He looked up at him briefly, confused, going back to his work quickly. “I’m sure they were.” He moved on to look through what paperwork had been set in front of him. Most of it due to Bond’s mission and the sudden end it came to. Some of from 003 having just returned as well. A bit of it from R’s request for vacation time. Her anniversary with her wife had rolled around again. He’d make sure that one went through personally. R was too good a right hand to not give her what little she asked for. 

“Are you listening to me, Q?” Bond asked suddenly. 

“No,” he answered softly. He hasn’t been paying attention to the man at all really. He had heard him talking but wasn’t paying attention. He looked up. “I do have other things to than chat with you, you know?” 

“Yes, but I was saying something.” He almost sounded smug. Probably knew he could distract him enough that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done until he had heard him out. It was a little annoying that he was right actually. 

Q rolled his eyes. Obliging him, because he always did, despite the annoyance. “Tell me then.” He sat back in his chair, knowing there was no point in trying to work until they had finished this conversation. 

“I had said that you should see them sometime.”

He frowned. “See what?” 

“The stars there.”

Q half smiled. “What makes you think I haven’t 007?”

Bond pursed his lips, looking away. “Well,” he finally said. “Have you?”

Q sighed tiredly. He pulled off his glasses, everything becoming a nice blur, including Bond. “I’ll answer that if you’ll answer something for me,” he said running a hand over his tired eyes. 

“Hm?”

“Why’d you call me?”

Bond frowned. “My laptop wasn’t working, remember?”

“Yes, but you called _me_. Not Q Branch, or R, or Moneypenny, or anyone else to help with your stupid laptop. Why did you do that?” Bond didn’t say anything for a while but it was alright, Q continued, “Don’t get me wrong, 007, I’m grateful. You being on the phone to hear it happen is most likely the only reason I didn’t die. You have to admit though, it was unusual for you.”

Bond huffed. “Are you accusing me of something. Quartermaster?” 

Q frowned. “Of course not. Why would I be accusing you of something?” He shook his head. “Nevermind, just-“ He stopped, closing his eyes, trying to focus. Finally, Q sighed, resigning himself to not knowing. “Just thank you. Whatever your reasons.” 

Bond watched him for a moment, his gaze soft. “I’m glad I did.”

“Bond-“ he began but Moneypenny chose that exact moment to waltz back in, a couple of plates in her hands. He couldn’t tell what food she had brought back on them though. “What the hell is that?” He asked, attention straying. 

“You know, I’m not really sure,” she admitted, setting down the plates on his desk. It smelled about as good as it looked, whatever it was, which was not at all. He wrinkled his nose. And so did Bond, coming to stand, vacating the only other chair in his office for Moneypenny. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to...whatever that is.” He made a face at Moneypenny. “Suppose I’ll see you later.”

She snorted. “Better not, 007.” She mimed shooting a pistol at him. 

He just shook his head, walking off. “Bond,” Q called before he was out the door. He stopped, looking back at Q earnestly. “I _haven’t_ seen the stars in Spain actually.” Bond just smiled, closing the door behind him. 

Moneypenny squinted at him, suspicious. “What was that?” She handed him a fork-- though god knows what for, he wasn’t eating whatever the hell was on that plate. 

“Nothing,” he told her. “Just answering a question.” Which was, in fact, the truth. He was just, innocently, answering a question, wasn’t he? That was the context he would convince himself of anyway. Bond’s smile was just...mild entertainment.

After that, and the not-lunch they had, the day passed slowly, but normally. Moneypenny left him once he got busy, telling R to watch out for him instead. No one told him who would accompany him back to the safehouse, but he wasn’t particularly worried, seeing as how he didn’t think he needed them anyway. 

He was on his way out several hours after he was supposed to-- with only R concerned for his well-being when he encountered 007 again. 

Wordlessly, he stepped into the lift with Q. And Q didn’t say anything. When he got out on the same floor as Q he didn’t say anything then either, but when he followed him out the exit Q sighed, falling into a slower step so he was walking _with_ Bond. “Following me home now, 007? I think this is heading into stalker territory.” He adjusted his glasses. 

“Yes, well, I’ve just been informed that I’m in charge of your security until tomorrow.”

Q stopped, sighing dramatically. “This is getting tiring, does M know this?” 

He looked over at Bond and he just shrugged. “R said you needed someone with you.” He clucked his tongue. “If you’ve bothered to tell anyone else, probably wouldn’t have ended up with me though, would you?”

Q stared. “Fine. Fine. Fine,” he threw his hands up. “Whatever. Let’s just go.” If he didn’t greatly value and love R he would have absolutely fired her right then and there. 

Bond hadn’t moved though. “Safehouse is this way.”

“Did I say I was going to the safe house?” Bond watching, looking maybe a little concerned, but perhaps more likely thought Q had gone off the deep end. He sighed. “I’m going to get things from home,” Q explained, “then the safe house.” 

Bond nodded then. “Okay,” he said, apparently satisfied with the plan now. “Let’s go.” He took Q’s elbow, gently steering him back towards MI6’s garage. “I’ll drive.”

* * *

* * *

Q’s flat was...quaint. More lived in than his own by far. There was a grey cat swatting at his feet as soon as he was in the door. Claws were digging into his legs soon. Q grabbed the thing, mumbling something to it before setting it back down on the back of the couch. “Little monster have a name?” He asked, eyeing it. 

“Líadan.” A pause. “It’s Irish, she belonged to my mother.”

“Your mother was Irish?” Q had a file at MI6 of course and Bond didn’t have clearance for the half of it, but the only mention of his mother was that she lived in the States now. 

“ _I’m_ Irish, of course my mother is Irish.” Moving past James, he opened up a closet, pulling a duffle bag from the bottom.

“You don’t sound Irish.” Not that he had ever noticed. He had a good ear too. Either Q hid his accent very, very well or he didn’t have one to begin with. 

“Yeah,” he said idly, looking through the bag. “Guess it didn’t stick.” He threw what was in it back into the closet and took the bag. “What about _you_? You don’t sound Scottish.”

James shrugged. Fair was fair. “Guess it didn’t stick,” he echoed. And Q looked up at him, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. It was adorable. 

Q zipped around the small flat, shoving things into the bag with little care of where things went. James just stood to the side, watching. Q was fascinating when one just stood back and watched. James made a mental note he needed to watch him direct a mission in Q Branch at some point to see if he was just as erratic but strangely efficient as he seemed to be right now. It was fascinating. 

The safehouse was actually only a short trip from Q’s flat. He might’ve wondered about M’s decision about that if he didn’t personally know this was one of the safest places to be in all of London. It was his old house. The one they sold when he ‘died’. Different furniture, updated security measures, but the rest was all the same. 

Things settled down quickly, the both of them making their spaces as they sat down for the night. Q had taken to emptying that bag of his throughout the house-- plugging in an alarm clock next to the bed, putting soaps in the bathroom, what clothes he brought put in the closet, all those sorts of things. Except, as it turned out, Q had mostly grabbed work projects to take with him as they took up most of the bag even when he had put everything else in its place. “You don’t find this just a little sad?” He gestured to all the ‘work’ Q had brought with him that he had laid out on the dining table. James couldn’t even tell what exactly he was working on-- several guns, a pair of heels, and a pair of car keys. They were all laid out amongst various parts and tools that James had no way of telling what went with what.

“No, I find it sad that MI6 thinks I need babysitting near constantly just because of one threat, this is just efficient.” He shook his head. 

James sat down across from him. “Maybe if they were threatening to throw eggs at your home and not kill you.” They had almost succeeded too. 

“He’s only poisoned me once.”

“And that’s one too many times, wouldn’t you say?” He poked at one of the pieces on the table and Q swatted his hand. “What even is all this?” James asked. It looked a spring-loaded awl, but he couldn’t imagine how that played into the pair of shoes sitting in the bag on the floor. 

“Nothing for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Q flicked his eyes up to look at James. “It’s for 003. I’m working on a pair of heels she can actually kill a man with. I’m working on the mechanics of the heel.” He went back to his tinkering. “Christmas present,” he clarified. 

“What have you made me for Christmas?” He asked cheekily, earning only a scowl in response.

* * *

* * *

Bond was in the bed. His bed. Bond was in his bed, reading at that, looking perfectly comfortable in his very casual pajamas. Q pressed his lips together. He was drawing the line at sharing a bed. He had to. It was a line. He wasn’t crossing it. They had kissed. Twice. They could talk. They could be friends. They weren’t going to share a bed. 

“You’re in the bed,” Q said, loudly, hoping to disturb him.

Bond didn’t look up from his book. “I’m too tall for the couch.” 

“I’m as tall as you are, Bond.”

He finally looked up. “I didn’t say you had to sleep there.”

Q crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “The other option is sleeping with you.”

Bond smiled. “Are you saying you don’t want to sleep with me, Quartermaster?”

“What a ridiculous question to ask.”

“Is it?”

He snorted, walking over. “Yes,” he said, leaning over Bond intentionally, grabbing his pillow. “The answer is too obvious.”

Bond shook his head, watching him walk out. “You’re welcome to come back at any time, Quartermaster.”

“Unlikely,” Q called. 

He caved maybe, an hour later. Pretty much any position he tried left him with something in pain, his knees, his neck, his back. Plus, it was cold. There would be no sleeping on that couch. Bond was still reading when he opened the door. “What happened to the couch?” He asked casually, flipping to the next page. 

Q tossed his pillow down next to Bond’s. “Shut up.” He pulled back the covers and put another pillow down between them. Handing his glasses to Bond, he said, “And turn that light off. Some of us actually need sleep.”

_“Sounds like it.”_ Even so, he flicked the light off and set his book down. Settling down, under the blankets, Bond said, “Goodnight.”

Q pulled the covers tighter around him, curling up to stay warm. “Goodnight.” And then everything was silent for a while. What felt like forever passed and he still couldn’t sleep, the sheer presence of Bond next to him keeping him awake. It would have been annoying if he didn’t know it was really his own fault for feeling this way. He was being an idiot. Finally, knowing Bond was still awake, he turned over. “Where’s my car, by the way?” He was almost afraid to ask. The answer was probably the bottom of the ocean. Or in pieces on some street between France and Spain. Or God knows what. 

Bond was quiet for a moment, then snorted quietly. “My garage.”

There was a long moment of silence between them. “But you _flew_ back from Spain.”

“I got someone else to drive it back to London for me.”

He sat up. “Bond-” 

007 grabbed his wrist. “Don’t worry. It was one of yours. R sent them.” He laid back down. Okay. That was alright then. Bond didn’t let go of him, rubbing his wrist gently with his thumb. “It drove beautifully by the way.”

Q didn’t move. Trying to decide what he wanted to do next. He didn’t have to though, as it seemed-- Bond withdrawing and throwing the covers back. “Sleep well, Quartermaster.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just getting up.” A pause. “No reason to keep you awake too.” And with that he was gone, the bedroom door shutting with a soft click behind him. Q sighed, suddenly feeling much colder with him gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys and shoutout to [@kadans](http://kadans.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and also inspiring the bad guy of this whole fic.


End file.
